About Bloody Time
by Lunarwench
Summary: Shaun has moved across the temple to sleep by that giant archway door these past few nights, isolating himself from the rest of the group. Desmond is not happy about it. Is he concerned for the sake of the team, or is it something more? MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR AC3/Will be Post-AC3/Will deviate from original ending
1. Chapter 1

**AN: MASSIVE HUGE SPOILERS ALL THROUGH AC3 AND RIGHT TO THE END.**

**DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT FINISHED THE GAME.**

**IF YOU HAVE FINISHED THE GAME, then please continue.**

**This will be my personal take on the game and my own concoction concerning the ending to AC3. For the sake of any wayward readers who are STILL reading but don't want spoilers, I will not say anything here.**

**Enjoy the story. :)**

***Artwork is by Ringreen on y!gallery who gave me permission to use the artwork as a thumbnail for my story. Thanks, Ringreen!  
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About three nights ago, Shaun had moved his sleeping mat away from the others and situated himself alone by the massive doorway. Desmond stood, arms crossed, a scowl creasing his brow, staring at the other's distant shadow from the sleeping area. His father was asleep a few feet away, but Rebecca was awake. Desmond heard her fidget every few seconds. The constant dark circles under eyes told him she hadn't been sleeping at all lately. Neither had he, to be honest.

It was December 16th. Well, the 17th, actually, but only by a couple hours. They had less than a week until the solar flare would strike the Earth, killing billions, unless they could open that door and discover what was hidden behind it. And every time they thought themselves to be closer to finding the amulet, some new twist would inevitably move it farther from their grasp.

It was bad enough worrying about the fate of the entire world without the added stress of seeing his teammates falling apart around him. Sure, his father seemed to holding up well, but Desmond would catch him wandering the temple floor, aimless, eyes hazy with distraction. And he couldn't seem to meet Desmond's eyes lately, especially after saving him from Vidic. Though the few times he'd managed to catch him unaware, he could have sworn he'd seen his father's eyes water.

And Rebecca was a mess. If Desmond didn't know any better, he'd worry about her betraying them. She'd become increasingly depressed as the weeks wore on, posing strange, concerning questions about joining power with the Templars to utilize their resources and fiddling with the same wires near Baby over and over.

Of course, he understood that there wasn't much to do when he wasn't in the Animus. Without his memories to sort and catalog and study, nothing needed attention. So everyone was left to do meaningless tasks while they waited for his return to unconsciousness.

Sometimes it felt like they were glaring at him behind his back, barely suppressing the urge to order him back into Baby.

But, fuck, Desmond was only human. No matter what his coma had done to him, he still had to stop to eat, to relieve his bladder, to bathe. On the rare occasions he was allowed outside, he'd washed quickly in a nearby stream. The same stream where their clothes were washed. 'Washed' being the closest term appropriate to what was basically running a dwindling bar of soap over any stains and then rinsing them once or twice in the cold water.

He needed sleep. The Animus did not provide him with restorative REM cycles.

It was time to sleep now. Hours past midnight and exhaustion had his eyes itching and his muscles creaking.

But Shaun was all alone by that goddamn door. Probably not sleeping either. Desmond was willing to bet Shaun was using the isolation as a way to sneak in extra work. What work he could get done without a session, Desmond hadn't the faintest idea, but that was a more comforting excuse than the thought of Shaun shutting himself away from the others.

A heavy sigh, a scratch at the back of his neck, and Desmond lightly scuffed his sneakers against the stone floor. It wasn't good for Shaun to be alone so much. The man, for all his complaints of being bothered, clearly craved human interaction. Desmond couldn't even get near him before the redhead was alternately asking him questions, seeking honest and thoughtful responses, and regaling him with stories of the Assassin's or his own history. And the bragging, oh god, the constant bragging.

Desmond smirked. Couldn't really fault Shaun for being proud of his intelligence or his skill in tactical planning. Shaun had gotten them out of a lot of tight spots before, and Desmond was grateful.

Lately, though, Shaun had gotten quieter. Whenever Desmond had gone to speak with him, their conversations had been less interactive and more Shaun lecturing him with his immense historical wisdom. Which was fine, because Desmond actually found it all interesting, but not as satisfying as an actual exchange.

Conversational topics aside, something was up with Shaun, and the historian's recent penchant for lurking all alone away from the others had him harboring a healthy dose of concern.

It had nothing to do with the fact that he enjoyed sleeping next to the surly historian. Or that he liked waking up to that bleary face, lines from the sleeping bag on his scowling face and that red hair a nightmare. Absolutely nothing.

Enough shuffling about, he decided. It was time to do rather than merely think. If Shaun wanted to go off on his own, Desmond was going to convince him to come back. Before he even took one step though, Rebecca's voice called out, clear and curious.

"What's up, Desmond?"

He glanced back, knowing without looking that her hushed voice had woken his father. Assassins slept lightly, as was necessary, but they also, thankfully, fell asleep quickly, to compensate for the often interrupted sleep.

"I'm going to check on Shaun. I don't think all that time alone is good for him."

Rebecca's reply was a hopeless sort of chuckle. "Good luck with that. Shaun doesn't like to be fussed over."

Desmond frowned to himself as he made his way across the vast cavern floor. Rebecca may have been working with Shaun longer than him, but he was pretty sure Shaun thrived on attention. Why else would someone who was so adamant about being left alone be so eager to talk to anyone who came within speaking distance of him? And why would Shaun always butt into everyone else's conversations if he actually didn't want to be included?

No, Desmond was pretty sure it was the exact opposite, but he wasn't going to voice that thought. Shaun didn't need him walking around verbalizing his beliefs that Shaun was desperately lonely.

He crossed the vast temple floor quickly, trying to soften his steps so they didn't echo in the open space.

As he drew nearer, Desmond saw Shaun lying on his side, facing the greenish glow of the door. He also saw how Shaun was still fully dressed except for his shoes and wasn't even in his sleeping bag, but rather had it completely unzipped and spread out beneath him.

Wasn't even _trying_ to sleep, was he.

He slowly climbed the steps leading up to the other's farce of a sleep site, slowing as he drew nearer. There was no sign the other noticed him. On the off chance that Shaun actually _was_ sleeping, the very small tiny minuscule chance, Desmond kept his voice hushed as he called, "Shaun?"

"Desmond." Came Shaun's soft, alert reply.

He let out a whoosh of air, grateful he hadn't woken him. A sleepy Shaun was a force to be reckoned with. Well, used to be. "Hey, so…uh, I just came over to check on you."

No reaction.

Desmond plowed on, trying to figure out the best way to phrase his thoughts. "So, um, I was wondering if you were planning on coming back to the sleeping area any time soon?" When Shaun didn't immediately answer, he hurried on, nervously, realizing he sounded like someone's mother. "I mean, don't you think it's safer with everyone else?"

"Contrary to the fact that I spend the majority of my day in front of a computer screen, Desmond, I am, actually, quite capable of taking care of myself in an emergency, thanks. Though, 'big empty cave' hardly constitutes as an emergency situation."

Desmond winced, noting the defensive edge in Shaun's voice. "No, I know that. I…I just don't think it's…healthy to be off here on your own so much."

"Yes, _Mum_. Whatever you say."

Desmond rolled his eyes, sighing in frustration. The last thing he wanted was a fight. "Come on, Shaun, don't start. Please. You really need to come back with the others. Sitting in front of this thing all the time, it isn't good for you, and you know it. You're changing, and I don't like it. I _know_ you-"

"_Know_ me?" Shaun had twisted to peer disdainfully over his shoulder, those hazel eyes glaring. "You don't bloody know me."

Desmond blinked at the response, but didn't back down. "Of course I know you." Shaun looked about to snap at that, but Desmond cut him off. "No, listen, Shaun, I'm _serious_." He could feel himself getting worked up. "You can't hang around someone every second of the day for _months_ on end without getting to know them pretty well. You can't put your life in someone else's hands without fucking _knowing_ them. So shut it and listen to what I have to say."

That had Shaun's mouth twitching shut as he quickly sat up, brows raised and surprise behind those rectangular lenses. Good. Desmond had his attention then. He didn't want to argue. He just wanted Shaun to come back and go to sleep and stop being so quiet and moody and _different_. All the things he'd been worrying about the past few days suddenly came pouring out.

"Rebecca and my dad and all our equipment is over on the other side of this place, and you were too at one point. Then your computer moved over here so you could work while you examined this fucking doorway, then your paperwork moved over here, and then the rest of your stuff, and now you're sleeping in front of the damn thing? Jesus Christ, you think it's going to _disappear_ if you look away from it? And don't even pretend that you're _actually_ sleeping over here, because I know you're not. I can tell. Just like I can tell no one else is sleeping. We're all exhausted but at least we're still _together_. I meant what I said; it's not healthy to be over here, secluding yourself from the only people you've interacted with since October. We're all equally important here and I can't have you giving up, and don't say that you're not," Desmond demanded angrily when Shaun looked about to protest. "Without you, I wouldn't even know what to do with my ancestor's memories. I wouldn't know where I was, or what was supposed to happen. Fuck, I'd probably go insane in Baby if I didn't have your databases to steer me in the right direction, to tell me what the fuck is going on, or where I am. It'd be a complete clusterfuck without you, so stop moping or whatever the hell it is you're doing and come back to our group because we sure as hell can't do it without you!" He finished loudly, face flushed.

But Shaun didn't move, and, for once, seemed at a loss for words. Which would be hilarious in any other situation, the talking encyclopedia that was Shaun Hastings finally rendered speechless, but Desmond was too fired up to admire that fact. He stared back, waiting for Shaun to get up, to listen to him, but Shaun didn't move. In fact, he seemed less likely to move than before.

Stubborn prick!

Angrily, he knelt down. "Fine," He hissed, elbowing Shaun aside. "Move over then." And he settled on one half of the open sleeping bag, on his side, crossing his arms with a huff. If Shaun wasn't going to join the rest of them, then he'd join Shaun.

Though, lying here would prevent either of them from actually covering up, with Desmond essentially lying on the cover half of the sleeping bag. But that wasn't his concern. If Shaun wasn't going to listen to him, then he would have to suffer the consequences.

He could go get his own sleeping bag, but he didn't want to wake Re-

Desmond gasped, throwing his hands over his face, cheeks on fire. "_Shit_."

"Yessss," Shaun drawled smugly behind him. "I was wondering when you'd realize that your impassioned speech was most _definitely_ loud enough for William and Rebecca to hear every word."

With a grimace, Desmond groaned. "Dammit, I feel like an ass."

Shaun made a sound nothing like a laugh. "And how do you think I feel, hmm? Not exactly _thrilled_ about your little outburst. Had to come over and scold me like I was a schoolboy again and you the headmaster, did you? Though," A slow sigh and hesitant sort of humming sound. "Thank you, for what it's worth. I appreciate what you said. Most of it, anyway. Not the yelling, mind you, or that last bit about the moping, you twat, but the rest, very much appreciated. You _can_ go now. I promise I'll not suffer a mental collapse without you babysitting me."

Desmond's momentary grin faded. "…You're going to stay over here."

"Yes."

"Then I will too." Desmond snapped, forehead creasing. "You're not the only one who can be stubborn."

An elbow jabbed Desmond in the side, and he threw a dirty glare over his shoulder. Shaun grinned unapologetically in return, most likely paying him back for before, then settled on his side of the sleeping bag, bending his elbows to rest his hands behind his head as he lay flat. Desmond shifted onto his back as well. For all Shaun's bluster, there wasn't any real fight to be left alone. If Shaun really wanted to get rid of him, he could simply move to a different area of the temple. But no, this only strengthened Desmond's belief that Shaun was lonely.

The silence between them was neither uncomfortable nor awkward. Rather, Desmond felt himself relax fully for the first time in days. As the quiet wore on, he began sliding into sleep, but then Shaun was sighing.

"You really intend to sleep here, don't you." Shaun said without asking, as if he was already resigned to the fact.

"I said you weren't the only one who could be stubborn. I'm not leaving you alone."

"How _sweet_, Desmond. I can almost feel my teeth rotting from your _feelings_. Be mindful of your volume though, if you're going to stay. We're far away enough to be unheard, but not if you get into another row with the air." Came Shaun's half-hearted gibe. "But really, what's got you so bothered? Surely my time away from the group isn't enough to warrant such a scene."

"It's not just that you moved away from the group, Shaun. You've been different lately." He could sense Shaun about to scoff or snort or do something dismissive, but he pushed on, unwilling to let the other brush him off. "You're always on your own. Whenever we talk, you're always distracted or tense. And you've stopped teasing."

"…Count your blessings, then." Shaun muttered. "Would have thought you'd appreciate not being subjected to my humor."

Desmond was surprised at the self-deprecation in that statement, and he floundered a bit, not used to hearing Shaun, who was usually quite conceited, put himself down. "I like your humor." He said without thinking, blushing and scratching his cheek in embarrassment. "I mean, I'm not saying I liked _all_ of your jokes, but it certainly did alleviate the tension at certain points. And you always say what no one else is willing to. I respect that. But something's different. You use humor for every emotion you have. Anger, frustration, fear, happiness, when you're tired, when you're hungry, hell, you probably even joke when you're having sex." Desmond snorted softly at the other's silence. "But you've stopped. Even your emails have gotten more serious. I can't help but wonder what's suddenly making you so serious. What could possibly be making that sharp wit disappear?"

Shaun was quiet for a while, but he seemed to be thinking. Desmond waited, feeling the minutes tick by like ants crawling on his skin. Had he been too forward?

Finally, Shaun shifted, his chest rising with a deep breath in Desmond's peripheral.

"Hopelessness."

Desmond blinked, wide-eyed, twisting his neck to peer sideways. "What? You don't think we're-"

"Desmond." Shaun interrupted forcefully. "I've examined every single _inch_ of this door. I eat beside it, I monitor your Animus trips beside it, and as you can _clearly_ see, I now sleep beside it. Other than that amulet, which we don't even know how to use if you'll recall, I see no way to open it. No sodding mechanism to even operate it with. And, on the slight chance we _do_ figure out how to open it, we don't even know what's on the other side. We've all heard your conversations with Juno, _darling_ that she is, and nothing she's said gives me hope that we're getting out of this alive. You said it yourself: if the first civilization couldn't save the world, then what chance do we have?"

Desmond bit the inside of his cheek guiltily. He _had_ said that. But that was over a month ago. After all their progress, he no longer believed it was all for nothing. Back when him and Shaun had first spoken about their mission, the other had seemed slightly desperate for his reassurance of their success, and he'd certainly been the more hopeful one. The change saddened him. "I don't want you to give up hope." He murmured absently, toying with his sweatshirt zipper. "I…don't want you to doubt yourself."

Shaun's immediate scoff sounded forced. "D-Doubt myself? Myself? I don't doubt myself."

"Yes, you do. Don't try to hide it from me. When you introduced yourself to me, you said you were tactical support for those assassins who were out there, what was it, 'actually doing something'? I know you were just trying to insult me, but you were also insulting yourself, too, weren't you." He didn't _ask_ that last part.

Shaun's silence told him everything.

"You hate not being out there, for whatever reason, even though you're brilliant doing what you're already doing, and helping so many, but you still resent it. You feel useless. I know what that's like. But you're not useless, Shaun. You are so important to this team, and we need you with us."

There was deep exhalation, then Shaun was haltingly clearing his throat. "How exactly do you remember what I said? That was over four _months_ ago. I'm so bloody exhausted, I can hardly recall this _morning_, let alone months ago."

Desmond couldn't help the chuckle. "I don't think I'll ever forget meeting the illustrious Shaun Hastings. You nearly bit my head off, remember?" Not that he begrudged the memory.

"Hm, well, can't really fault me for that, can you, Desmond?" Shaun's voice had warmed, and was only _slightly_ mocking. "In you come, fresh from the most _rubbish_ fight I've ever seen, I mean, really, Desmond, you were _dreadful_ with those Abstergo guards, and Rebecca and I were supposed to accept you as our savior. Mind you, I had looked you up, to see why Abstergo wanted you, and the only thing I found was the fact that you _ran away_ from your life as an Assassin and then holed yourself up in a bar for nearly a decade." He scoffed. "Honestly, was I supposed to be impressed? Or nice? We had a job to do, and you wouldn't bloody leave me alone. You seemed more concerned with giving me a bit of a chat-up." Then Shaun was snorting into his hand.

Desmond smiled, confused, but joining in on the laugh despite not knowing what was so funny. "I'm chatting with you right now, aren't I? You don't seem too upset by that."

Shaun snorted louder, his head shaking side to side in Desmond's peripheral. "No no, that's not…_Heh_, nevermind. And anyway, it's different now. Back them I thought you were an utter buffoon who was going to get us all killed. But now…"

Desmond brows shot up at the almost nostalgic change of tone in the other's voice. "Now?" He encouraged, slanting a look at Shaun.

Shaun sighed, all traces of laughter gone. "Now I think I might trust you with my life."

Heat rushed up Desmond's face, unexpected, and he snapped his attention back to the ceiling, unsure why he was suddenly prickling with embarrassment. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he muttered an awkward, "Thanks."

"Well, apparently the feeling is mutual, so I thought you deserved to know." There was a fond sort of snort. "Since when did you get so friendly?"

The whole exchange, strange as it was, had Desmond's chest feeling as warm as his cheeks. "Well…we're supposed to be friendly. We're friends."

A contemplative sound from the other had Desmond glancing over, seeing a smirk on those lips.

"Hmm, are we?"

Desmond grinned back. "Yeah."

"Good to know."

"Yup." Desmond said, quite lighthearted.

"This will come a shock, Desmond, but I haven't too many friends." Said Shaun, playful yet serious. "Being an Assassin affords little time for personal relationships. Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

Something flipped a little in his stomach at the word 'relationship', but Desmond ignored it. "Oh, it's the job that keeps others away? It's not the way you verbally assault anyone who tries to get close?" He teased, lightly jabbing the other with his elbow again.

Shaun chuckled, protesting. "I don't _assault_! I merely…Oh, alright, maybe I'm a _bit_ rough."

Desmond nearly choked on his laughter. "A _bit_? You called me a tiny child the day we met, and every time I tried to talk to you, you acted like you were one step away from slamming your laptop into my face."

"Yeah, well…" Shaun assented, voice deep and attempting to sound innocent. "Maybe I'm not so good with new people. People who, mind you, are _rubbish at fights_."

"You wouldn't say that now." Desmond challenged jovially. "Come on, admit it. I could take you in a fight now, I bet."

"_Take me_?" Shaun's indignation was palpable. "What is this, a pub in Camden? I may be sat in front of a computer all day, but I'm still an Assassin, Desmond, and though I might concede that your training is a bit better than mine, simply because of your teachers, don't think I'll fall over like some old gran without her cane."

Desmond couldn't resist. "I've talked to Rebecca. She told me she always beats you."

"What?!" The historian's voice notched up another octave. "She-That's-"

"And don't claim it's because she's a woman, I know you're not that much of a gentleman to let a woman beat you up." He jabbed, because it was true. And Rebecca was strong.

Though, not quite as fast as Lucy had been. Lucy had always kicked his ass. He wondered, briefly, if she hadn't been a traitor, if she were still alive and still with them, if he'd be able to win a match with her. She had been amazing. The best fighter out of all of them. The thought made him sad. But only for what could have been. She had been a good friend.

Shaun was still sputtering irately beside him, finally huffing and crossing him arms over his chest, expression petulant.

Desmond grinned to himself, feeling slightly charitable. "Unless you just let her win because she's your friend too."

Shaun nodded quickly, obvious in his need to defend himself. "Of course it is." He snapped. "She's been depressed lately and, good person that I am, I thought it might boost her mood to let her win once or twice."

Which was a complete and utter lie because the two of them hadn't even sparred lately, but Desmond wasn't going to point this out. Shaun's inelegant indignation was quite enjoyable. He wanted to see more. "You know, when I first met you two, I thought you were together."

"_What_."

The flat, blatant disgust in that single word was so sharp, Desmond didn't even have to look to see Shaun's expression. He could imagine it, and he did, smirking unabashedly.

"Are. You. _Mental_?!" Shaun exclaimed. "You thought me and her, that…that…_we_…You've got to be joking. Rebecca, she's…First of all she's a nutter, second, have I mentioned she's a nutter? The woman is insane, always harpin' on about computers and technology, I wouldn't be surprised if she wasn't actually _part cyborg_. Would make sense, to be honest, since she gets her jollies leaping out of airplanes and scaling mountains, or whatever nonsense she's into nowadays. And all this is rendered completely invalid by the fact that she _is_ a wom-"

Shaun cut himself off so quickly, that the ensuing silence was _painful_.

Desmond held his breath, embarrassed simply because he could feel how tense Shaun had suddenly gone. It's not like it was a surprise. He'd already known Shaun was gay, though, for whatever reasons Shaun felt the need to keep it quiet, Desmond knew the other hadn't meant to say that just now.

Best not to let it fester though, not with the way he could feel Shaun mentally withdrawing. But how to go about it? What was the best way to assuage the awkwardness of the moment without sounding accusatory or pitying? He attempted a relaxed chuckle, pleased it came out sounding almost normal. "I only said 'at first'. Don't worry," Please let his voice not sound as strained as he felt it was. "It was obvious pretty quickly that you two weren't compatible. You bicker with her more than anyone else."

Would Shaun understand him? Could he see that Desmond wasn't making this into a thing?

And apparently, he could. Though Shaun, perhaps feeling the need to share, didn't shy away from the topic.

"How did you know?" Came Shaun's casual query, as if he were asking about the weather.

Desmond sighed. "Well, little things here and there, but I think the biggest clue was that really long email you sent, about how the founding fathers were bigots-"

"_They were_." Shaun interjected fiercely.

"I know, I know." Desmond soothed. "I'm not arguing. I'm just saying, that kind of sealed it for me. You were so passionate about how backwards they were, and I felt like you took their sodomy laws personally."

Shaun visibly bristled. "You don't have to be gay to be passionate about equal rights. If you think-"

"Shaun, man, relax." Desmond interrupted quickly. "I know that. I wasn't trying to be offensive. I'm just saying I understand. I get it. There were a lot of clues, but it didn't _matter_. Who the hell cares who is attracted to who? It doesn't change anything about you."

There was a gradual shift at his side, Shaun relaxing back against the sleeping bag, and Desmond let his breath out, relieved. Thank goodness. The last thing he wanted was to make him think he was actually bothered by something like that. Not when he himself was-

"What kind of clues?"

"What?" Desmond startled, wary of another fight starting.

But Shaun's voice was curious, nothing more. "You said there were clues. What were they?"

That was a loaded question. After a moment of _very careful_ thought, Desmond answered. "Well, I think I first started wondering after that bit about Kate. You were so awkward about it, and Rebecca definitely hinted at something." He remembered how red Shaun had gone, stuttering wide-eyed at the implications of Rebecca's 'lunch' with Kate. "After that, it was more of just noticing little things. You can't deny you kept a picture of Da Vinci under your pillow."

A new bout of sputtering and Shaun was hurriedly making excuses. "That's-He was a great scholar, I admire him, you can't-"

"Shaun." Desmond said gently, unable to suppress a smile. The other's reaction was quite endearing. "Come on."

"I admit nothing."

Desmond snickered.

Possibly in an attempt to regain a semblance of dignity, Shaun changed topics. "I'm a bit surprised, Desmond, by your magnanimity. You seem a bit…straight-laced to be so open-minded."

"Hey," Desmond muttered, wincing. That stung. "I've been a bartender for nine years, Shaun. I've seen and heard everything. And…if I had to be honest, well, the, uh, the opportunity _has_ presented itself." Desmond admitted, blushing. He'd rather not discuss his rather unsuccessful attempts at same-sex sex. Inexperience and insecurity and partners who expected more of him had turned him off from continuing, so in that area, he was painfully unskilled. As time went on, he'd lost interest.

Though sometimes, very briefly, he wondered about Shaun. As the other's sexuality became less a question and more a surety, Desmond couldn't help but think about…

Well.

Things he quickly _stopped_ thinking about because Shaun was a colleague and a friend and this was not a college dormitory nor a nightclub back room and those kinds of things were best left alone.

Shaun still hadn't responded to his confession, and he fidgeted nervously. This was a risky conversation, and not at all what he'd planned on talking about when he'd come over.

But all Shaun finally said was a neutral, "Oh."

Desmond felt the need to explain himself, uncomfortable with all the hidden implications in that silence. "Not that I've ever…" How did he clarify without sounding offensive or desperate? "There were, um, _interested parties_," There was a definitive snort from the other, but Desmond hurried on. "But I…I…never-I mean, I _would_, but-"

"This isn't a quiz show, Desmond, calm down." Shaun's voice was far too amused for Desmond's liking. "I don't need your history."

"But I thought that was your specialty."

That earned him a hushed bark of laugher, and Desmond grinned to himself, relieved as his embarrassment faded with each deep chuckle from Shaun. Once more falling into a comfortable silence, Desmond stretched his legs and folded his hands across his stomach. Drowsiness came swiftly in the companionable silence, and he closed his eyes, sighing as the minutes slipped by. He wondered if Shaun had fallen asleep already, but then-

"Do you…ever get lonely?"

Eyes flying open, Desmond felt his breath hitch. For long moments, he couldn't remember how to operate his lungs. Part of him wondered if he had really heard the whispered question. Maybe he'd imagined it. Surreptitiously risking a look sideways, he saw Shaun staring steadily at the ceiling.

Okay, so he definitely didn't imagine it, then.

What the hell kind of question was that? There was no way he could answer something like that. No way he was going to-

"Yeah."

He surprised himself, his mouth going dry at his own boldness. Why hadn't he just pretended to be asleep? Why had he felt compelled to answer, to tell the _truth_?

"I'm lonely, Desmond." Came Shaun's murmured admittance. "Haven't been with anyone since I joined."

_Fuck_. This was getting too…

What?

Something. Too something. _Way_ too something.

Letting out a shaky breath, Desmond tried to slow his thumping heart, uneasy about how odd he felt. Technically, it was the same for him too. Hadn't been with anyone since he joined. With a woman whose name he didn't even remember. A pretty, but forgettable girl who had been clear about her attraction and even clearer about her disinterest when she'd all but kicked him out of her apartment minutes after the act, complaining of work in the morning.

She'd called him Dennis.

But that had only been about a week before Abstergo had found him, back in August. How long had Shaun been an Assassin?

"Two years." Shaun said bitterly, as if reading Desmond's mind.

_Fucking hell_. Two years? It'd only been four months since Desmond had been kidnapped by Abstergo, and he was sorely missing the feel of naked skin. Not to mention how impossible it was to find even one moment of privacy to relieve certain needs. He'd managed to sneak away on two occasions, attempting some manual stimulation, succeeded once, but been panicked the whole time, and gave up the second time after an eternity of trying to orgasm because he couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched.

But two years? _Years_? He ached sympathetically for the other man's solitude. He managed to squeak out an answer, eyes focused back on the darkness above him. "…It's, ah, the same for me."

Shaun continued quietly. "_Do you miss it_?"

Desmond shivered at the almost accusatory tone in the other's voice. "…Yeah."

"We have five days. Desmond." Soft sounds, then Shaun was sitting up, spine straight and voice steady. "Do you think we'll die lonely?"

Nothing said had been suggestive, or lewd, but Desmond abruptly couldn't breathe and his chest quaked with his frantic heartbeat. Feeling desperate and brave and stupid, he ignored the alarms going off in his head and whispered, "We don't have to."

There was no warning, but Shaun suddenly loomed over Desmond, slid astride him, one knee forcing its way without invitation between his tense thighs, then lips met lips, and Desmond jumped at the ferocious way Shaun invaded his mouth, one strong hand grasping Desmond's jaw and forcing his head to the side for better access, the other slipping down to curve around Desmond's hip, thumb brushing underneath his shirt and making Desmond twitch as Shaun's weight settled heavily atop him.

Desmond had never really thought about what it would be like to kiss Shaun, because such thoughts were dangerous, but if he had, he certainly wouldn't have thought Shaun to be this _aggressive_. As much as he tried to keep up, Shaun outpaced him, dominating his mouth with deep licks of that curling and winding tongue. Desmond realized with a start that he was achingly and immediately hard, groaning at how Shaun's leg pressed – _oh god_ - against his cock in all the right ways.

He bucked up, hands finally catching up with his brain and wrapping around the other's back, hugging Shaun tightly. Then he pulled away, panting. "Hang on," He rasped, reaching to undo the buckles securing his hidden blade, tugging it off then sliding his arm around Shaun's back as they resumed kissing, yanking Shaun's shirt up, his sweaty forearm sliding underneath to delight at the feel of Shaun's bare skin, of the furrow at the base of the man's spine. Desmond slid his palm down, fingers stretching hopefully under the other's belt.

Shaun answered with a slow roll of his hips and Desmond's eyes rolled back in his skull. The sound that came from his throat was nothing he'd ever heard himself make, but he honestly couldn't give a fuck as Shaun rolled into him again, those soft lips trailing away from his mouth and up his jaw to his ear. A tongue traced the shell of his ear as hot breath brushed over him. Desmond's skin prickled into goosebumps and he arched his neck, wanting nothing more than Shaun's mouth on as much of his skin as he could get to as he moaned softly.

Palms slid slowly up Desmond's stomach, eliciting shivers as they went, bunching his shirt up under his armpits, and he shifted, framing the other's sides with his legs as Shaun ducked down to kiss at the bared skin of his chest. He barely kept himself from shouting as Shaun dragged him mouth across one of his nipples. His cock throbbed painfully in the confines of his jeans. Thank god the denim was old and soft. He shifted restlessly, trying to relieve the pressure.

In answer to his movement, Shaun's palm landed firmly on the ridge of his erection, and that mouth was once again on his.

Desmond was burning up, circling his tongue slickly around the other's, his skin growing sticky with sweat as he fumbled to get his hand down the back of Shaun's pants. That damn belt was too tight. Why did Shaun have to wear such tight goddamn clothing? All he could get was a tantalizing grope at the upper edge of Shaun's ass. Groaning in frustration, he circled his arms around Shaun's back, pulling him close, then sat partially upright so he could flip them over and spread Shaun out below him. He pulled his mouth away reluctantly to a soft sound of protest, which had him throbbing all over, and refitted his hips into Shaun's, grunting softly as the pressure returned. Shaun shifted beneath him, arms coming up to grasp the back of his neck again, and Desmond felt hips rock up into him, a long leg moving up and twining around the back of Desmond's thigh, a socked foot fitting in the crook of his knee.

Something sizzled right down to Desmond's toes, and he moaned a little too loudly from the intimate feel of Shaun wrapped around him.

"_Sh!_" Came Shaun's sharp hiss, that mouth quickly following the warning with another deep kiss.

Right. Blearily, his mind hazy from the heat and pressure, he remembered that his own father was under the same open ceiling, and Rebecca was probably still up, worried for the upcoming unknown. He'd already let one outburst disturb them, he definitely didn't want to wake them with _this_.

Not when Shaun's fingers were digging into his back. He fumbled between them, trying to undo Shaun's belt, but for some reason, he suddenly forgot how to be dexterous.

Climb a building while bleeding and being chased by thirty guards, easiest thing he's ever done.

Undo a horny man's belt while trying to rut against that man's thigh? Apparently harder to do than solving a codex page without Leonardo.

Shaun batted his hands away, impatience obvious in the movement, then Desmond was being shoved to his previous position on his back, Shaun climbing over him once more, this time, something inscrutable on his face as he paused on his knees, undoing his belt and yanking it from its loops. It was tossed aside, then Shaun was unbuttoning and unzipping as well, his thumbs hooking down beneath the waist of his trousers.

"I-I don't have any lube." Desmond blurted, unable to look at anything else but the faint trail of reddish hair leading a thin trail down.

Eyebrows arched high in surprise, Shaun suddenly grimaced, stilling with a snort. Then he was bending down over Desmond, hands planting firmly on either side of his head, expression a mix of frustration and disgust as he stared imperiously down into Desmond's eyes. "I'm not sure if you've realized, _Desmond_, but we've been bathing, if you could call that pathetic pantomime _bathing_, in a _stream_ for weeks. And before that, we washed out of a water trough. Sex has to come with a shower. Nobody's cock is going up anybody's arse."

Desmond shivered, confused. "But…then…"

"There are plenty of other ways to comfort each other." Shaun whispered, his voice low and soft, full of promise.

Then Desmond was once again being kissed breathless, Shaun's tongue forceful and dominating, those skillful hands, so nimble on a keyboard, were swiftly undoing Desmond's jeans. His lower body was bared without warning as Shaun shucked him of his jeans and underwear in one quick move. Distracted by the kissing, Desmond didn't hear the other shifting down his own clothing, but Shaun was suddenly pressing down against him, naked from the waist down as well. Their groins met in a shock of smooth, hot skin, and Desmond bucked up with a gasp. He'd never felt anything like it before, the answering press of another man's cock, or the pulse of someone's heartbeat from such an intimate place. Jeans tangling around his knees, Desmond tried desperately to spread his legs, wanting Shaun's weight between them.

For a fleeting moment, he imagined Shaun fucking him.

He nearly came.

His hands flew up to grasp desperately at Shaun's back, his hips thrusting up of their own accord as Shaun reached between them to wrap his fingers around both their cocks.

"_Ahh_!" Desmond moaned heatedly, barely suppressing his voice in the other's mouth, not caring in the least even if his dad did hear him. All he wanted was more touching, more Shaun, more heat, and then, blessed release.

Shaun didn't shush him again, but he did lick over his parted lips and tangle their tongues together as he jerked them both off.

Never in Desmond's life had he been touched with such skill. Every shift of Shaun's palm had him whimpering, and as Shaun tongue-fucked his throat, he could barely concentrate on breathing normally, his breaths coming quick and harsh.

The hand lifted without warning, and Desmond nearly whined at the loss, but then Shaun was shifting to spit unceremoniously in that hand and then returning it between them to wrap once more around them, skin now slick and so much fucking better than before. Heat coiled razor sharp in his gut.

"Sh-Shaun-!" Desmond grunted, hips curling up as he tried to thrust into that dexterous grip.

Shaun didn't answer, but sped up his stroking, and Desmond's bottom lip was pulled between gentle teeth and gnawed on.

_So close_.

The heat of Shaun's cock against his, the other man's fingers wrapped tightly around him, the taste of his mouth, and the sounds he was making, urgent and throaty, it was all overwhelming, and Desmond shuddered, his fingers digging into Shaun's shoulders as he came, thickly spurting over the other man's hand, moaning raggedly as he trembled through his orgasm.

The waves slowed, then faded, and Shaun's grip grew nearly painful as the aftershocks grew too intense. But then Shaun was arching stiffly over him, face falling to press into the juncture of Desmond's neck, breath ghosting hotly over his skin. Shaun shuddered violently, voice a strangled groan, and wet heat splashed across Desmond's stomach.

Shaun's fingers grew slack around their waning erections, his face was still buried in Desmond's neck, body a pleasant and heavy weight, draped loosely over Desmond's body. Without thinking, Desmond slid his arms further around Shaun's back, nuzzling the juncture of neck and collarbone to press a kiss softly against the other's sweaty skin.

But Shaun rolled off him like he was suddenly on fire, shaky breaths and red cheeks betraying the otherwise calm expression he had on his face. Desmond caught the barest flash of Shaun's ass before those trousers were being yanked back up slim hips.

"Look," Shaun whispered, as if suddenly afraid that the others could hear him from way over here. "That wasn't, I mean, we aren't…" His breath whooshed out and Shaun turned to lay on his side, back to Desmond. "I'm lonely and tense and we're not anything but coworkers, as far as I'm concerned."

Something cold crept over Desmond. Was this a joke?

But Shaun coughed awkwardly, all traces of humor gone. "I'm saying what happened… What we just…" Again he faltered. "That was just…"

Desmond beat him to it, something heavy settling in his gut. "Stress relief."

Another moment, and then Shaun was quietly agreeing with him, voice flat and toneless. "Exactly."

Desmond had to strain to hear it. As the other's words sunk in, erasing any residual pleasure from their coupling, Desmond sat up slowly, rearranging his jeans and pulling down his shirt over his sticky stomach. Unable to take the nothing that stretched between them, Desmond quietly got to his feet, picked up his discarded hidden blade, and made his way back to the sleeping area, uncaring if he woke the others.

"No luck then?" Rebecca asked sleepily once he settled into his sleeping bag.

He mumbled noncommittally back, not trusting his voice.

"Told ya," She said with a yawn. "Shaun doesn't like to be fussed with."

Desmond tried to go to sleep, listening to how Rebecca's breathing slowed to match his father's.

But sleep was a long time coming for Desmond, who refused to dwell on how something hot and painful prickled behind his eyes.

TO BE CONTINUED

* * *

**AN: There should be about 5 chapters for this fic, though don't expect me to go crazy on the action/adventure plot. My main concern is Desmond and Shaun, who went from awkward colleagues in the AC2 to Best Friends in AC3. Seriously, they were so bromantic with each other, it's not even a question.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN****: See notes below after reading.**

* * *

It had been a mistake.

In a moment of desperation and sheer _idiocy_, Shaun had crossed a line that should not have been crossed.

Loneliness was not a valid reason for what he'd done. He'd been lonely before. Hell, he'd been lonely for most of his _life_. Why had this time been any different? Why had he let himself give in?

Having been small for his age as a child, Shaun had quickly developed a thick skin. He'd also become quick witted and sharp tongued, quite capable of outsmarting anyone foolish enough to insult him for his scrawny body, or his flaming red hair, or his too-big-for-him glasses, or the fact that, as he passed into puberty and realized it himself, he was gay.

Not that anyone knew that for sure, but simply because Shaun didn't chat up his female classmates or stare at their breasts or, during Year 10, discuss in graphic detail what he'd do to the female supply teacher who wore low-cut blouses and tight skirts - probably on purpose, to get the boys' attention - if he ever got her alone.

No, his appearance and personality were enough to convince the entirety of class that he was, as they so eloquently put it, 'a poofter'.

Of course, he hadn't cared, because most of his school chums were ignorant wanks who would spend the adult years of their lives working in petrol stations or as couriers.

Shaun could not have cared less what those boys, and many girls, had thought of him. Because Shaun wasn't going to waste away in a petrol station, oh no. Shaun was bloody brilliant, and he was going to make everyone see why he wasn't bothered when they shoved him into lockers, or pushed him in the mud, or, that one time, stole his glasses and shattered them into a hundred pieces.

Give him a book, and he'd read it cover to cover in a day. He spent the majority of his teenage years reading nearly every book in his local library. Though, history books were where he shined. Shaun knew more about the history of the world than those prats knew about their own childhoods.

And with his knowledge, he quickly surpassed all of them, getting pushed ahead one, no, _two_ years. He'd graduated from university while they were still trying to pass their exams. He'd attained a Junior Professorship job at the age of 20, and been happy there, feared and admired by his students, until he'd dug too deep and Rebecca had saved his life.

And through it all, he'd been alone aside from the occasional fling here and there - a man had his needs - because nobody meant anything. Shaun hadn't needed or wanted anyone. He had his brain, and was comfortable in the belief that he was all he needed in life to be happy.

Until Desmond Miles had firmly and seamlessly fitted himself into his life.

The man made him more unsure of himself and confused than anything else ever had. Books and knowledge and wisdom meant nothing when just looking at the other man sent a punch to his gut, nerve endings fizzling at the memory of their heated embrace.

Shaun's cheeks heated and he shook his head to clear his thoughts. This was not the time for that. He had databases to write, and he had to monitor Desmond's progress as he experienced Connor's heart-to-heart with a very sick Achilles.

A glance to Desmond in Baby showed him creasing his brow unhappily as Connor talked to his mentor.

Shaun swallowed thickly. He imagined a similar expression had been on Desmond's face the other night, after he'd sent him away from his bedroll.

The thought depressed him more than he thought it would. He cared for Desmond as a friend - and only a friend - a great deal. Or so he'd thought.

Two years without a partner had left him surprisingly needy for another's touch, and though he'd entertained thoughts about Desmond on a few occasions, he'd never planned on acting on them. Desmond was simply another man who he'd been around for far too long, who seemed unyieldingly heterosexual. The prolonged exposure didn't automatically designate that he would lust after him. And meeting Desmond for the first time had been quite uninteresting. He'd thought him amateur and nosy, nothing like what he desired in a partner, physical attraction aside.

However, the more time he spent with him, the more he realized how much they had in common and how well they got along. He found himself unconsciously reaching out to Desmond, wanting to talk to him whenever he got the chance.

He even, and this was the biggest surprise of them all, willingly paused his research to have lengthy conversations with the other about practically nothing at all. And Desmond was a willing audience. He smiled at all the right bits, and asked all the right questions, and even gave back as much as he got when Shaun found himself unable to bite back the insults that came so naturally now.

A sound drew his attention out of his thoughts and back to Desmond's face, where he saw the other's throat twitching, soft sad sounds from within muffled by closed lips. On his computer screen, he could see Achilles coughing with difficulty and Connor hanging his head. Desmond was whining quietly, reacting unthinkingly to his ancestor's emotions. It happened often, though never more than a twitch here or a gasp there. Shaun found it quite endearing, and he longed to stroke the other's hand, to reassure him.

No.

It was those kinds of feelings that were causing him so much anxiety now. All he'd wanted to experience one last time, for he truly believed their mission would fail, was the touch of another person. Preferably someone he liked and respected. And when Desmond had haltingly admitted he was open to gay sex, Shaun hadn't been able to help himself.

Desire had, for the first time in his life, overridden rational thought.

But now he couldn't stop feeling those full lips against his own. Or those strong arms wrapped tightly around his back, pulling him closer. Couldn't stop seeing Desmond's flushed, sweaty face, or those dark eyes almost _begging_ for more. Couldn't stop hearing Desmond's throaty groans and how his breath hitched every time Shaun touched him in a new way. Desmond had _wanted_ him.

Desmond wanting him was terrifying.

Because he just might want him back.

He'd spent himself across the other's skin, content in the simple satisfaction of his orgasm, but then Desmond had clung to him, had audibly breathed him in, had pressed tired lips so sweetly and gently to his neck.

That kiss had sent him flying back, skin tingling and mind screaming at him -_what have you done, you berk_-, his body already tight with regret.

Shaun Hastings did not _need_ anyone else.

But in that instant, when Desmond kissed his neck like a lover, he almost did.

Lashing out unthinkingly, Shaun had shut down, unable to accept that he, briefly, had let someone in.

Desmond had been confused. Had sat for long seconds then left slowly. Shaun had risked one look as the other walked away, and he'd seen how Desmond's back had been hunched. How his body language just shouted _rejected_. The memory cut through him. He knew that he'd hurt Desmond. That he'd damaged something between them when he brushed him off, refusing to look at him, dismissing their coupling as no more than a workout.

But he'd been mortified by his own stupidity. Couldn't even face himself.

They had 72 hours until the solar maximum, and Shaun wasn't sure what he wanted to happen. He could barely look Desmond in the eye. Could barely stomach the shame he felt at what he'd done to the other.

After that night, and not getting one minute of sleep, Shaun had moved back to the sleeping area. It was why he was now seated right back at Desmond's side as he explored his ancestor's memories. It was supposed to be a sign for Desmond, that he was sorry and that he wanted everything to go back to normal. But Desmond had barely spoken to him for two days.

Shaun sighed, his chest tight - as it had been since that night - and bent back over his laptop, attempting to focus once more on his database entries.

72 hours left.

Shaun, for the first time in memory, had no idea how what to do.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

"It will happen in an instant. There will be no pain."

"You mustn't!"

"It's done, Minerva. The decision's made."

_What_?

"Then the consequences of this mistake are yours to live and die with."

Desmond was turning back towards them. "You need to go. All of you. Now. Get as far away from here as you can."

Wait a minute.

Was he actually going to…

William was grasping his son's shoulder desperately. "Come with us. We'll find another way!"

Yes, there must be some-

"There isn't time!"

"Son…"

Shaun watched numbly as William stalled in front of Desmond.

"You know it's true. It's already started. I need to do this now. So go! GO!"

Shaun jerked, heart pounding, his legs moving him even as he struggled to understand what was about to happen. He stared back at Desmond as he went, too many unspoken things caught in his throat.

"Come on!" Rebecca was tugging his arm as the three of them started sprinting back down the walkway.

A sudden flash of bright white light came bursting from behind them, a terrible metallic sound, like something charging up, then-

Nothing.

The light disappeared like a switch being flipped and the sound ceased, leaving only their swift footsteps. There was a faint, strangled sound from William, like a sob or a scream, Shaun couldn't tell which, but they kept running, because who knew what was going to come out of that chamber.

They had only gotten to the middle of the temple before Shaun skidded to a halt, panting, sweating, terrified.

He couldn't leave.

He turned without thinking and began to race back the way they'd just come. Back to Desmond. He couldn't just _leave_ him.

_He couldn't_-

"Shaun!" Echoed Rebecca's frantic call. "What are you doing?! Come on! We've gotta _go_!"

Shaun shouted back, sparing the tiniest glance back at his friend, "Go on, I'll catch up!"

"But Shaun-" She sounded like she was going to follow him.

No, he couldn't let her get hurt too. "**GO**!"

He had to get back to Desmond. At the very least, whatever was about to happen, Desmond shouldn't be alone when he...

If he…

No one should.

Shaun hadn't even said goodbye. Hadn't even hugged him. Fuck, hadn't even looked him in the eye and said 'thank you' for everything. For helping them. For fighting for them. For sacrificing himself without hesitation to save them. To save the whole planet. For being a friend. For being…more. Maybe.

The light had returned to the soft glow from the First Civilization technology flowing through the walls. Shaun shivered at the implications of the silence.

Just past the open archway, a strange movement shimmered at the far end of the tunnel. For a fleeting moment, Shaun's heart stumbled, _Desmond_, but no, it was something else.

Something glowing.

Some_one_.

It was steady, and golden, and Shaun ducked behind one of the great big boulders lining the walkway past the door.

Juno.

Seeming to glide towards him. Shaun held his breath anxiously. All the Assassin training in the world couldn't prepare him to take _her_ on. Not even daring to blink, Shaun pressed tight to the stone, trying his hardest to remain undetected.

But whether Juno didn't sense him or if she didn't care that he was there, the glow passed, continued on, and then vanished. Shaun quickly glanced in the direction she had been moving in. Hopefully Rebecca and William would be okay.

He began running again.

Once again at the end of the walkway, Shaun saw the pedestal first, glowing faintly in the darkness of the room. Then he saw Desmond.

Motionless, splayed on the floor, on his back, his right forearm strangely shadowed.

Shaun's stomach surged up his throat, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe. "Desmond?" Everything seemed to be growing darker as he hastily approached. Even the light from the pedestal was fading. "_Desmond_!" Closing the remaining space between them, Shaun knelt at the other's side, reaching out to carefully grab a limp arm and shake it. "Desmond, mate, _answer me_!"

Nothing.

It was the Temple of Juno all over again. It was Desmond picking up the Apple one moment and then seeing him sprawled on the floor, Lucy nearby in a pool of blood. It was hot, acidic panic shooting through his body. It was fear.

Shaun quickly reached up to search for a pulse but felt only sweat-cooled skin, and Desmond lay still. Lay dead. But there was no blood. No sign of a struggle or wounds. Had Juno done this after he'd touched the pedestal? Or was this simply caused _by_ the pedestal?

The arm he noticed before, that had looked shadowed, was covered in dark bruises and looked…_smudged_. It was something other than bruising, Shaun was certain, but now was not the time to diagnose.

He had to do something. "Desmond? Come on, please!" Panting, his teeth clenched so tight his jaw ached, Shaun scooted closer to the other's prone body to have better access. "_Don't leave me_."

Shaun would _not_ let it end like this.

Tilting Desmond's head back, he leaned down to give two rescue breaths, and then straightened up to administer CPR. Keeping count in his head, Shaun started chest compressions, pausing only to give breaths after thirty compressions.

_ 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10_

_11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20_

_21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30_

He swooped down to give another rescue breath, shifting up quickly once more and resuming chest compressions.

_ 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10_

_11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20_

_21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30_

Another rescue breath.

_ 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10_

_11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20_

_21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30_

Another.

He couldn't give up. He couldn't just stop. He couldn't walk away. He'd already made that mistake. He should have stopped Desmond.

_Come on_.

_ 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10_

_Don't you give up._

_11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20_

_Come on._

_21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30_

**_Come on!_**

Jerking down again, he brought his mouth to Desmond's, one thumb pulling down the other's chin and opening those lips, ready to breathe for him.

But then Desmond bucked, gasping violently. Shaun flew back, narrowly missing being head-butt, eyes wide, disbelieving. "Bloody hell!" Watching for any signs of further distress, he let Desmond frantically learn to breathe again. His cheeks were wet and he discreetly wiped at them with his sleeve. He hadn't even realized he'd been…

Desmond coughed painfully, his face pale and his eyes dripping copious tears. Shaun stared down at him, heart still slamming painfully in his chest and a cold sweat that he only just noticed creeping down his spine. Desmond was rolling onto his side, still wheezing and gasping. Shaun just sat on his bent knees, breaths shaky. "D-Desmond?"

Dark brown orbs gazed blearily up at him, wavering through the tears. "Shh...nnn?"

Speech slurred and shaky, Desmond sounded inhuman. _Fuck_. Shaun's stomach tightened further. "It's okay, Desmond, relax. You were passed out," _Dead_. "-And I've just administered CPR to resuscitate you. Try to maintain your breathing." Good god, his voice sounded a lot more calm than he felt.

Desmond shuddered, eyes unfocused but bright. "…_Yyo_…"

He seemed unable to speak louder than a whisper, and Shaun bit his lip, scooting closer, resting a hand on Desmond's upturned shoulder and leaning down to better hear him. "What's wrong? Try and breathe slowly, take your time, don't rush." He moved his arm awkwardly, attempting what was supposed to be a reassuring pat on the back. But it was more like a brisk slap, and he stilled, laying his palm flat again, awkward. "Everything's going to be alright."

Desmond's breath was coming easier now, but still with great effort, and Shaun worried he might have taken too long to start CPR. What if there was brain damage? He chewed his lip harder, trying to push those thoughts away.

With a deep, steady breath, Desmond stared piercingly into Shaun's eyes. Shaun gulped, prepared for the worst. Please let him be okay.

"I…" Desmond whispered, swallowing thickly.

Shaun's fingers involuntarily dug into Desmond's sleeve. "Easy, mate." He soothed. "Nice and easy."

Desmond blinked slowly, reaching up to wipe at his face. "Shaun, I…"

Shaun hardly realized he was leaning down even more, his ear only inches from the other's mouth. Soft puffs of air fluffed his sideburns. "Yes, mate?"

"I…I've got…good news…and bad news… Which would you…like first?"

Shaun froze, eyebrows flung up into his hairline in shock. Then it clicked. That was the same thing he'd said in his email just two days ago.

The email he'd sent in an attempt to lighten the mood. The email he'd sent, trying to be funny, trying to show Desmond he hadn't given up.

The email he'd sent after days of pretending what had happened between them hadn't actually happened.

He wheeled back and whacked Desmond upside the head. "_You bloody wanker!_" He barked, standing on still-shaky legs and brushing the dirt of his pants with a nearly perfect air of nonchalance, if not for his trembling hands. "I was worried you were _dead_, you arse! This isn't the time to make jokes!"

Of course, he realized his own hypocrisy, but this was a matter of principle. With a huff, he crossed his arms, stalking away from the stupid git. Let him lay there and wheeze, who the bloody hell cared?

Desmond's hoarse laughter gave him goose pimples though. For a moment, he honestly thought he'd never hear that again. Thought he'd never get to…

Sighing shakily, Shaun turned back around and returned to where Desmond lay on his back again, breathing much easier, but all loose-limbed like he was exhausted, which, as Shaun realized, he probably was.

Shaun's eyes went hot again, and he rubbed at them beneath his glasses, relief and something he couldn't quite identify flooding his synapses. He _needed_ Desmond.

Coming close, he knelt down at the other's side, extending an open palm. "Come on, Desmond, up you get. Rebecca and your father probably think we're _both_ dead by now. Let's go prove them wrong. I _love_ proving Rebecca wrong."

Desmond chuckled again, expression soft, that undamaged hand coming up and grasping Shaun's hand with surprising strength. Together, they got him up on his feet and that arm slung over Shaun's shoulders for support. The blackened arm hung limply at Desmond's side. Shaun gripped the hand on his shoulder and used his other arm to wrap around Desmond's lower back, gripping his side and ignoring the way Desmond's warmth made him break out in goose pimples again. If Desmond had been anyone else, he most likely wouldn't be capable of movement right now. But his Assassin training had made him resilient, and his body was strong. The fact that he was even standing had Shaun impressed and grateful. A weaker person might not have been able to be brought back.

Whatever that…_thing_ had done to Desmond, it had truly damaged him.

Shaun hoped the other man would be okay. He would need to be seen by a medical team, though a hospital was out of the question. What with how Desmond's face has been plastered on Wanted posters all over the world, any excursion into the public would most likely get them all killed.

Their walk to the exit was slow, but Shaun was an Assassin too, damn it, and his grip on Desmond was unfailing.

It would have to be one of the Assassin dens. Maybe even Headquarters. Not that he even knew where it was, though he knew it was in America. Maybe it was near them. Close enough by plane, in any case. They could book tickets on the next flight available, once William told them where to go. The medics at HQ could treat Desmond. They could make sure he was okay, that there wasn't any lasting damage from Juno's pedestal.

Until they got to the open archway and into the main cavern, Desmond was silent, but Shaun didn't mind. He didn't need any-

"Thank you." Murmured Desmond, head suddenly dropping down to Shaun's shoulder.

With remarkable calm, considering how intimate the move was and the memories it suddenly caused to flash before his eyes, Shaun said briskly, "Don't mention it, mate."

Desmond halted suddenly, nearly causing Shaun to trip, and a weakened arm tugged him back, turning him, wrapping around his back, hand fisting in his sweater, Desmond's forehead resting on his collarbone. Heat flared in Shaun's cheeks as his arms acted on their own and matched Desmond's desperate grip, letting himself be embraced.

"No." Said Desmond, voice growing stronger. "Really, _thank you_. I thought I was…"

"Me too." Shaun blurted, biting his lips closed in embarrassment.

"I was ready to die, I honestly was, but I didn't _want_ to." Desmond's voice cracked slightly. "You have no idea how…" His arms tightened. "When I saw you, I…"

Shaun stared uncomfortably over Desmond's shoulder. He tried that awkward patting again, but gave up halfway when his hand shook a bit too much. This whole _feelings_ thing, he really wasn't good at it.

Desmond sniffed, but his voice was once more steady. "I was so confused when I saw you, there, above me, I didn't remember falling to the ground. All I remember was putting my hand on that orb, then everything _hurt_. Oh god, the _pain_. Juno lied. It hurt so much."

Shaun's arms held a little harder at the agony in the other's voice.

"It was dark and there was nothing, and then there you were." Fingers dug into Shaun's back, clutching. "I…god, Shaun, I-"

"_Shaun_!"

Rebecca's voice rang out in the cavern, high and panicked, her footsteps far away but quickly approaching, and Shaun managed to not shove Desmond away from him, though he did breathe a little easier when Desmond shuffled back a step.

"Over here!" He called, still holding the other up with one hand. "I've got Desmond with me!"

The footsteps faltered in the distance, then, "…What? You…don't mean…" Quick again, Rebecca's steps rushed nearer and she was suddenly racing through the far entry way tunnel into the open cavern.

Shaun waved at her in the dim light, watching as her face went from worried to relieved to shocked, and then finally, to amazement.

"_Desmond!?_" Quick as she could, Rebecca was sprinting to close the remaining space between them, her arms flying out.

"Brace yourself, mate." Shaun muttered, finally detangling himself from Desmond's grasp and watching as Rebecca flung herself at him, taking them both stumbling back.

Letting out a pained grunt, Desmond took the full weight of their fall, and Shaun huffed through clenched teeth. The man was _weak_, for christ's sake. He didn't need to be bludgeoned to the ground. If he'd known she was going to leap upon him, he'd have blocked her, not welcomed her ridiculous move.

"Desmond, I thought you were gonna die!" Rebecca gushed, sitting up and grabbing Desmond's face in her hands. "I thought we'd lose you!" She shifted to pat down his body, seemingly checking for injuries.

Shaun fumed. But only because Desmond was grimacing, in obvious pain, and for no other reason, of course.

And not only in pain, apparently, but also in danger of passing out. Shaun saw Desmond's eyes go hazy.

He stomped forward, grabbing Rebecca under the arm and hauling her - certainly not _throwing_ her, because, what was he, a brute? - off him. "Bloody hell, Rebecca, I didn't bring him back to life so you could smother him with your gigantic arse."

Clearly shocked by what he said about saving Desmond, Rebecca let the insult pass without remark, whipping her head to stare at Shaun. "…Br…_Bring him back_?" She gasped, a hand flying to her mouth.

Shaun rolled his eyes. Always the dramatist, this one.

"Yes, Rebecca, he died. And I saved him. And the world is safe, at least for today, so if you _please_, Desmond needs proper medical care, and I'd like to get out of this blasted cave to HQ where I can properly bathe and have a cuppa for the first time in several weeks. Also," He added, almost as an afterthought, despite the seriousness of the situation. "Juno's corporeal, so keep a look out."

Ignoring her flurry of questions, exclamations, and tears, Shaun hustled them all to the exit, and thankfully, because Desmond's strength seemed to be failing even further, she was a great help in getting him up the tunnel and under the partially raised stone wall entrance to the open air of the forest. As they approached the mouth of the cave, Shaun heard an engine idling. He saw with great gratitude that the van was backed up to the entry way, waiting for them. Well, waiting for two of them. Shaun wondered how William would react having just moments ago having said goodbye to his own son, knowing Desmond would die.

"Get the door, would you?" Shaun asked, taking Desmond's full weight as she did so. He had to practically carry the other, because Desmond was completely limp, his head beginning to loll back, skin terribly white.

There was a heavy clack of metal as Rebecca opened the back of the van, and William's toneless voice rang out from the driver's seat.

"Find him?"

Rebecca grinned widely back at Shaun, climbing up into the van and holding her arms out to help pull Desmond up inside. "Yeah, and I've got a bonus for ya too."

"Oy!" Shaun grumbled. How tacky could she get? "Don't act like _you_ saved him."

Shaun saw William's eyes in the rearview mirror for a split second as he hefted Desmond carefully up to lay on the floor of the van. But then he saw William's jaw drop open. There were quick and frantic exclamations and then quiet sobbing as he struggled to the back, kneeling by Desmond's side and bending down to embrace his son.

Shaun found the whole thing quite uncomfortable. More _feelings_. And not even his own this time. Out of, mostly, respect, he hopped up with the others, slammed the door shut behind him, and made his way to the driver's seat.

He let the others coo and fuss over Desmond, who had finally passed out exactly as Shaun had worried he would. He was clearly still breathing though, thank goodness. Strapping himself in, he turned to address them. "Look, I know you both want to know what happened, and I can tell you some of it, but now is not the time. I'll explain it all later, I promise. I don't know what happened to him," He nodded down to Desmond's prone form. "But he needs medical help, and he needs it right now. So, you better get him secured and yourselves strapped in too, because I'm getting us out of here." Turning back to face the front, he met teary eyes in the rearview mirror. "William, tell Rebecca where HQ is, and Rebecca, get us tickets on a plane or train or whatever the hell we need to get there. We've got the Apple, we've got Desmond, and oh, by the way, he saved the entire planet." With a firm grip on the wheel, Shaun shifted from park to drive and took his foot off the brake. "I deserve my bloody espresso after all this."

TO BE CONTINUED

* * *

**AN****: So now we see that this story has become an AU fic! Many people aren't fans of AUs, but I'm not trying to change the setting or the characters in any way. I was ultimately dissatisfied with the ending to AC3, and since I couldn't find any Post-AC3 that made me feel better about the ending, I decided to write my own. I will still have the characters remain IN-Character, as I really dislike OOC writing.**

**I hope you all will continue to read. I also hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know in a review if you have the time. **

**Thanks! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Let the healing begin. :)**

* * *

Desmond awoke in an unfamiliar room. A strange, dimly-lit room with two doors. Almost every part of his body was throbbing, strapped down in a bed. _Trapped_. Genetic training kicked in and he held his breath, inwardly panicking, looking all over for an exit. If the Templars had him again, if-

Shaun?

The anxiety dissolved in an instant at the sight of the other man, slumped, fast asleep, in an armchair beside Desmond's bed. Shaun's head tilted limply to the side and his mouth was slack, breaths soft and slow. Light from the small lamp on the bedside table cast soft shadows across his face.

_Shaun_.

It all came rushing back to him. Standing before that pedestal, sending the others away, unable to look at Shaun, unable to even say a proper to goodbye to everyone. The world was ending, and Desmond hadn't even hesitated to do what he'd had to do. Juno would be reanimated, but the Earth would be saved, and the people who lived on, the Assassins and the Templars, would remain to fight on.

There'd been pain, light, darkness, then-

Shaun right there, above him, saying something about CPR while Desmond had struggled to breathe. To understand.

That Shaun had saved his life.

Shaun, who had dismissed him, who had acted like that night never happened, _Shaun_ had been staring at him like he'd wanted to swoop upon him and hold him tight, tears streaming down from under those slightly askew glasses.

Desmond remembered bits and pieces after that. Shaun helping him walk out of the temple, faltering as he clung to the silent man, done in by the heat and smell of Shaun's skin so close again. He'd given in, embraced him, buried himself in Shaun's arms, grateful, honored, and flustered. He'd been about to tell him-

But then it got hazy.

And now he was here, in this foreign place.

Shaun gave a soft snore, shifting and murmuring something unintelligible before settling once more. Desmond smiled. Shaun sleeping was a comforting sight. He'd always been able to sleep better when Shaun was nearby, since the other was always the first to bed. Desmond was usually the last to fall asleep. He'd only been training to be an Assassin for a handful of months, and he'd never gotten used to the sleeping bags or stone floors. Listening to Shaun's quiet snores and being able to look without reprimand at the other's relaxed features was a great help at night.

Now, it lulled him in the most basic way.

And if Shaun was that deep asleep, then surely Desmond was someplace safe, wherever it was. He slowly attempted to sit up, but the sheets, which he'd initially thought to be straps holding him down, were tucked securely around him. Oh, everything ached, and he groaned at the sudden pain his movement caused. There was a strange numbness creeping up his right arm, and something felt strange. He glanced down, seeing everything below his elbow wrapped in thick bandages. Had he broken his arm? Why couldn't he feel his hand? In fact, he couldn't even move his arm at all. It felt like a dead weight. Something like fear slithered through him at the realization that his right hand was the one that touched the pedestal.

Had…Had it been amputated?

A pinch on the back of his other hand had him glancing over distractedly to see an IV needle piercing the skin, covered by a layer of clear medical tape. A nearly empty bag of fluids hung just upwards of that, and Desmond tried to swallow, realizing his was painfully thirsty. The action triggered a coughing fit, or as close to the act as he could manage, which was more a series of razor-sharp wheezes.

It was enough to rouse Shaun, who sat up quickly, a hand reaching up to rub behind glasses.

"Wazzit? I'mup." Shaun cleared his throat. "I'm up."

Desmond tried to stop his sort-of coughs long enough to explain what he needed, but Shaun was already looking down at him, then reaching for something on the bedside table and moving to sit on the bed by Desmond. The dip of the mattress did something funny to Desmond's stomach. Not romantic-funny.

Puke-funny.

The combination of stomach churning coughs, his too-dry, swollen, fuzzy-feeling tongue, and the sudden movement made something acidic surge up his throat.

A spoon appeared before his eyes, a small chunk of ice cradled in the curve, and Shaun was speaking softly.

"Alright, alright, calm down, Desmond, you're safe at headquarters. Open up, be a good boy, let me bloody help you before you're sick on the last of my clean clothes."

Desmond opened his mouth obediently, the ache in his throat threatening to start another fit, and then cool, slippery, refreshing, _delicious_ ice was melting on his tongue. It soothed all the sore aching bits and took away the furry feeling, and when it dripped down his throat, he felt the bile recede. He let out a sigh of relief, closing his eyes and relaxing back against the mattress.

Shaun fed him a couple more ice cubes in silence, put the glass back on the bedside table, then stood up and bent over Desmond. A warm palm slid around Desmond's back, pulling him gently upright while another hand shifted and fluffed the pillows behind him. Shaun was close like this, and Desmond shut his eyes, the tip of his nose just barely touching the soft material of a dark green sweater vest.

Shaun smelled like deodorant and stale cologne.

He found himself breathing deep.

A hiss slipped past his lips as Shaun guided him back towards the newly raised pile of pillows, briefly forgotten aches flaring up again.

"How are your pain levels?" Shaun asked seriously, his brow creased as he sat back down on the bed. The same warm palm came up and lay flat to Desmond's forehead, then it flipped and the cool skin on the back of that hand lay flat instead. "I can get you some medicine if you need it."

Desmond took a deep breath as Shaun's hand left his forehead, shifting beneath the sheets which had been loosened during all the movement. "I feel like I've taken a leap of faith right into the ground." It helped, slightly, when Shaun snorted under his breath, smiling faintly. Desmond buzzed happily inside. His attention drifted back towards the thick gauze wrapped around his right arm. "What happened to my hand?"

Shaun's sharp intake of breath was all the warning he got.

"Your _hand_? Oh, your _hand_, Desmond? Do the words 'glowing pedestal of death' ring any bells? You, in a _brilliant_, not-stupid-at-all decision, put that hand, your ruddy _bare_ _hand_, on something that looked to be live-wired, _knowing_ it would kill you, and then, big surprise here, mate, you _died_." There was a derisive scoff as Shaun angrily crossed his arms. "If it wasn't for me and my ability to remain rational and quick-thinking in a crisis, you would still _be_ dead. And no one really knows _why_ you died, giving the rather lackluster databases on the First Civilization and their technology, but I'm going to take a highly-educated guess and assume you suffered a violent surge of electricity which stopped your heart and basically fried you from the inside out." The ire in Shaun's eyes was frightening. "Don't expect me to be grateful for your apparent 'sacrifice'. Most idiotic thing I've ever seen, frankly. We had _no_ reason to believe Juno after what Minerva showed us. Did you go bleeding _mental_ after opening that door? And what was with all that 'just leave me behind' nonsense? Trying to look good and leave a good impression?" Another harsh snort, then Shaun was looking away. "Well, you can look elsewhere for praise because it didn't work on me, you _insufferable_ prat."

Desmond stared up, wide-eyed and surprised. That…had been a lot to take in.

Shaun wasn't looking at him, in fact, he seemed to be looking at anywhere but him. It suddenly clicked. Shaun was angry at him for what he did. Shaun was upset he had died. Shaun was now fervently scolding and belittling him because he…

Hadn't wanted to lose him.

Something loosened inside his chest. Some great big, heavy knot he had ignored since Shaun had sent him away that night. He didn't want to hope that Shaun wanted... But there was something there. At the very least, Shaun cared for him deeply as a friend. And that was much better than 'a colleague and nothing else'. Desmond fought a grin. "I'm sorry I scared you." He murmured honestly.

Shaun sputtered at that, his hazel eyes whipping back accusingly. "Who was scared? I was merely… I just, you-" His jaw clenched visibly and his expression was defensive.

Before anything else meant to hurt or deflect could be said, Desmond smiled openly. "And thank you for saving me." Feeling lighthearted for the first time in a while, Desmond said teasingly, "You're my hero, Shaun."

With seemingly nothing to say to that, Shaun looked quickly away, staring down at his lap, frowning slightly. Then, softly, and surprisingly heartfelt, he muttered, "You're welcome."

All Desmond wanted at this very moment was Shaun acknowledging him. After being ignored, Shaun's attention was like a warm ray of sun after a snowstorm.

But before he could bask in it any longer, Shaun was standing and briskly clearing his throat, smoothing his palms down his trousers in vain, attempting to remove the wrinkles. "Right, well, let me go fetch a medic, we'll get you another dose of meds, and then I'll fill you in on the last couple days." Then he was at the door and out it, shutting it behind him without another word.

Shock warred with the warmth in Desmond's chest. '_Days_'? Had he really been unconscious for that long? Days since Shaun had lead him out of the temple?

No…wait, Rebecca had been there too. Right? And then, his dad-

Desmond jumped a little. His father. Now he…vaguely remembered. Being pulled into the van, feeling weak and loose and like he was simultaneously floating away and made of lead. His dad crying and hugging him. Then his dad was sleeping near him? That must have been later. There were brief flashes of scenes he couldn't really understand. How had they gotten here? He didn't even know where headquarters was located, but had they driven the whole way? Or flown? He had no memory of that at all.

A soft click drew Desmond's attention back to the door. Shaun had returned, a neatly dressed woman at his side. She was quite tall, with dark skin, long black hair, and big kind eyes. Her gaze made Desmond feel safe.

"Glad you're up, Desmond." She greeted amiably, coming over to the far side of his bed and checking his IV drip.

Shaun had remained by the door where he was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed once more, peering stoically at her over his glasses.

"My name is Naomi," She said with a smile aimed down at him. "And I've been looking after you. Shaun said he's yet to fill you in on your ailments, but let me assure you that you're going to be fine. You've got some of the best medics at your beck and call here. Now, Shaun tells me you're experiencing some discomfort?"

Desmond nodded, unable to keep from smiling in return. "Yeah, uh, I feel like I've taken a leap-"

"Just tell her where it bleedin' hurts, Desmond. She doesn't need your stupid jokes." Hissed Shaun from the wall.

That stung. Especially since Shaun himself had laughed at the remark earlier. But Naomi didn't even falter.

"Don't be a jerk, Shaun." She said without turning around, still smiling at Desmond. "I heard you are experiencing some discomfort, so I'm giving you a small dose of painkillers, enough to dull the pain," As she spoke, she pulled a wrapped syringe and small bottle of a clear liquid out of her pocket, opening the needle and extracting some of the liquid with precise and practiced efficiency. "But I cannot give you any more than the minimum." The painkillers were injected into the small port inches away from the IV needle in Desmond's hand.

Like a switch being flipped, all the hurt places dulled considerably, and he left out a sigh of relief.

"Now that you're awake, we want to keep you alert. HQ is probably the safest place you'd ever want to be, but it doesn't mean we're invulnerable. You need to be able to defend yourself now if there comes a need." A penlight appeared from Naomi's other pocket. She sat down, mirroring Shaun's earlier position. "I'm just going to give a quick check-up, then I'll let you get back to resting, though you may get up after you've eaten and go about normal activities."

Naomi checked Desmond's pupils, his reflexes, the bandage covering most of his right arm, and then asked him some simple questions. Seemingly satisfied, Desmond was given a huge smile. "Everything looks great, Desmond. No signs of head trauma, brain damage, loss of mobility or reflexes, and except for your arm, you're in very good health. I'm going to remove your IV drip,"

There was a pinch as the needle was gently removed from Desmond's skin, and pressure as gauze was pressed over the hole.

"-and as soon as you feel able, I want you to get some food in you. Something filling, but light, in case your body rejects it. Soup would be the best choice, and I'm going to put you on a dose of daily vitamins. I'll talk to our head chef,"

Desmond arched a brow at that. Head chef?

"-and get a menu planned out for you for the next couple weeks. We want optimum cell regeneration, and your body will be nutrient-starved unless we're careful." She checked the needle mark, then pulled a thick adhesive bandage from her pocket, where she apparently kept a never-ending stash of supplies, unpeeled the paper strips, and carefully laid it over the wound. Then her fingers shifted to grasp Desmond's, and she was practically glowing at him. "And thank you, Desmond. We've all heard about what you did." Her head turned minutely to Shaun as well. "All of you." She squeezed his fingers gently. "But especially you. We are all eternally grateful for your hard work and your sacrifice." A laugh had her smirking back to Shaun. "And this one here, we're pretty impressed by how he saved you. Makes me wonder if we should get you off Tactical, Shaun, and put you on the medical squad instead."

Shaun made an obvious, exaggerated sound of disgust, his mouth a scoffing sneer. "Ugh, not bloody likely. You keep your needles and stitches away from me, thank you very much. I'd much rather deal with people that are _already_ dead."

Naomi laughed, her hand slipping away, and she was standing and wishing Desmond a good day, wheeling the IV stand and bag out with her.

Shaun shut the door behind her and sat petulantly back on the bed. "Slag." He muttered, glaring at the door with his arms crossed.

Desmond wasn't sure what a 'slag' was, but it was clearly meant to be something horribly offensive. "Hey, she was nice. What's your problem?"

Shaun was rolling his eyes, turning back to Desmond, one brow pointedly arched. "Oh, she's plenty 'nice', Desmond. She's so 'nice', that if I wasn't here, she'd have asked you to strip and give her a 'proper view'. Do you know I caught here trying to take your shirt off yesterday? Oh, she tried to cover it up, made some excuse that you should be changed into 'clean clothes'. _Tch_, go _out_ and get some if you're so randy you'll practically jump a colleague. _Pathetic_."

Desmond flushed, biting back the retort. Luckily Shaun hadn't seemed to notice his own words, or what they brought up memories of. Clearing his throat and desperate to change the topic before Shaun _did_ remember, Desmond asked, maybe a little too loudly, "You, uh, said before that I've been out for a couple days?"

Shaun turned back, mildly distracted. "Hm? Oh, right. Well, since we left the temple, it's been about, oh," Shaun let out a slow breath, eyes up to the ceiling as he seemed to be counting in his head. "Fifty…no, wait, Sixty-three hours. You've been out for most of that. It's afternoon now, about…" He checked his wristwatch. "1:16, to be precise."

Wow. Desmond slumped a little, surprised by how much time he'd lost. Something like that would have bothered him before, but… After the decision to give up _any_ future for himself, those hours seemed like nothing. He was here, he was breathing. He was alive.

The smile was involuntary, and he shook his head, processing what it truly meant to have been brought back to life. Glancing at his bandaged arm, he shifted to look at Shaun, who was staring back by this point. "What happened after the pedastal? Did I lose my hand? Because at this point, I'd be pretty pissed that wasn't the first thing anyone's said to me." He was only partly serious, though the numbness near and beyond his wrist was very concerning.

Shaun had followed Desmond's line of sight, expression pensive. "No, you haven't lost your hand. It's still there, but…" The expression morphed into something else. Something more restless. "Everything's still were it should be, but that pedestal did something to you. Something no one can explain. When I found you, there were dark marks like bruises from your fingers to up past your elbow. I thought belatedly that maybe it was broken. But nothing was broken. Those marks were burns. Burns like no other anyone's seen before. Your tissue hadn't just melted, Desmond. It had _disintegrated_ and left behind black scorches. That's what we were seeing. You'd also lost about a pint of blood but had no open wounds. And your entire body was dehydrated. It was a mystery as to what exactly happened to you when you touched the pedestal."

"Jesus…" Desmond whistled, gingerly lifting his arm, relieved that there was still a hand underneath all the gauze. "How bad were the burns? Will there be bad scarring?" Desmond wasn't asking to be vain. But scars would impair flexibility, which he needed to keep mobile and dexterous.

Shaun thankfully looked like he understood his real concern. "Actually, no. You won't have any scarring. Except from the surgery. Here's the thing, Desmond, and it's a hell of a thing, let me tell you. You had burnt tissue _inside_ your arm. What I thought to be bruises was actually the blackened material under your skin. I don't know how that happened, and neither do the medics, but you're going to be out of commission for a bit. They had to excise the dead tissue, lots of nasty scraping around, I'm sure, and it'll be quite a while before it heals into new, healthy, useable flesh." Shaun's brow was furrowed. "That means no more parkouring for you. Not for a long time." Beneath the sternness, there was a quick flash of something else. "And you know what that means, Desmond dear?"

"Uhh…more Animus sessions?" Desmond asked in confusion, still processing how much Juno fucked him up. Not that he needed his hand for the Animus anyway. His memories weren't reliant on his own physical health. He'd be able to continue normally in that respect.

But Shaun snickered, suddenly grinning. "No, sadly not. I mean, eventually, we might need more information from your ancestors to see if there are other P.O.E.s in your genetic past, but Desmond," Shaun's smile was a bit too smug for Desmond's liking. "You're time in the Animus is mostly finished. And until you can get back out into the field, you've got a _much_ more exciting job waiting for you."

Bracing himself for the worst, Desmond waited. Were they going to make him a janitor or something? Scrubbing toilets or cleaning up blood from practice fights? What could possibly have Shaun so satisfied?

Shaun's smirk put the Chesire Cat's to shame. "You're going to be my personal assistant."

Desmond blinked in surprise. "That's it?"

Shaun blinked, then scoffed. "'That's it'? What do you mean, '_that's it_'? I'll have you know my work is quite important, and even someone as brilliant as I am still requires assistance. There's still much to be done and you're bloody useless like this, so count yourself lucky, you git, because I had to-"

Desmond held up his unbandaged hand placatingly. "Whoa, calm down, Shaun, I know, jeez, you know I _know_. I meant, just, why…" Well, why had Shaun been so excited? Desmond had thought maybe, the way Shaun had been acting, he'd been assigned something particularly horrible. Something Shaun could gloat about while watching Desmond suffer.

Then again… Shaun wasn't really like that anymore. Sure he was snark and biting wit, but Desmond couldn't say things hadn't changed between them. Before that night, they'd been friends.

Maybe Shaun was really just excited that they were going to be working together. Closely together by the sound of it. And Desmond could understand that. He'd love to help Shaun with all his research and history stuff. He'd been telling the truth when he told Shaun it fascinated him.

And, well, he wanted to be near Shaun.

Couldn't really explain it. Maybe he was just grateful Shaun had saved his life. Maybe he just _liked_ Shaun. Heck, maybe he _was_ falling for him. And that last thought didn't make his stomach squirm uncomfortably like he thought it would. Suppressing a smile, Desmond shook his head. "…Nevermind. I'd honestly enjoy helping you out. It'd be a nice change of pace from all the blurred frenzy of the past few months."

As expected, Shaun was staring at him with a mixture of confusion and unease. "You're not disappointed?" He snorted. "You just have to take all the fun out of everything, don't you, Desmond." A sigh, then he grabbed the glass of melting ice and brought another piece to Desmond's lips. "Open up."

Desmond once more obeyed, realizing that he was quite capable of feeding himself ice by now, and he was kinda sure that Shaun realized the same. But, there was something nice about this, and Desmond certainly wasn't going to make Shaun stop being so nice.

"I really don't mind, you know." He blurted suddenly, once the ice had melted to a small sliver on his tongue.

Shaun was chasing another cube with the spoon, and only half-reacted. "Mind what?"

"Helping you." And Desmond found once he started, he couldn't stop the words from coming. "I think it'd actually be really fun. I'm all about history and you're so smart," He could practically feel Shaun preen from that. "And I'm so sick of being strapped in the Animus all the time. I know I have responsibilities as an Assassin, but this is a chance for me to try something new. And," Now or never, he decided. "I want...to..." Before he could lose his nerve, he reached across his lap with his good hand and lay it over Shaun's where it rested on the redhead's leg, watching Shaun's eyes go wide. "I don't want what happened between us to just be 'stress relief'. I want it to be more than that. I want it to happen again." _Please don't bolt_, he silently begged, seeing how the other's cheeks grew darker. Hell, Shaun's whole face was turning red. "I don't know when it happened, but you're more than just a colleague to me. You're more than just a friend. And no, this isn't just some hero worship because you saved my life. I felt it before then. I was willing to die because, despite the whole world about to be destroyed, one single thought ran through my head. _What would Shaun do without his computers?_ I know that sounds dumb, but…Fuck, Shaun, I can't stop thinking about you. I don't know what you feel for me, if anything, but I know you enjoyed what we did. I'll take that, if it's all you can give."

Silence fell between them, and Desmond suddenly acknowledged how hot his cheeks were. And doubts began to creep in. Had he just royally fucked everything up?

At least Shaun wasn't leaving the room, though he was awkwardly looking anywhere but Desmond, and then coughing oddly into his closed hand.

"Uh, right, that, uhh…" Shaun took a deep breath, eyes slanting back towards Desmond. "A tad desperate, don't you think?"

Any hope he had died right then and there. Desmond shifted to pull his hand away, something tight and painful in his chest as his fears were confirmed. "Jesus, Shaun, cut me some fucking slack." Thank god his voice hadn't cracked.

"N-Now hold on," A shadow fell over Desmond as Shaun bent over him. "I didn't say I was bothered, did I? More like…" The other's face was inscrutable, but Shaun was angling his head down ever so slightly, lips mere inches from Desmond's, making his heart race. "_Impressed_. And flattered, if I have to be honest. But, christ, Desmond, could you sound any _more_ like a preteen girl?"

Then Shaun's mouth was on his, and Desmond forgot to bark back, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, wanting more of Shaun's mouth, of his taste. Just as their tongues touched, a quiet knock that might as well been a gunshot had them jerking apart, panting guiltily, faces flushed. The door slowly opened, and Desmond was glad the room was so dark, because Rebecca was peering in. Her face instantly brightened as her eyes landed on him.

"Oh." She exclaimed softly, lips spreading into a huge grin as she came into the room. "You're awake. I was just coming to relieve Shaun." She nodded at Shaun, who was pointedly keeping his face turned away. "How're you feeling, Desmond?"

Surprised at how steady his voice was, Desmond said, "Not too bad. Shaun got me a dose of painkillers, and told me what happened." In an attempt to pretend she hadn't just interrupted anything, Desmond gestured around his room. "So this is HQ, huh? I didn't think we'd ever actually get here."

Rebecca made a sad sound. "You almost didn't, Desmond. But…gosh, I'm just so glad everything's okay." She came over and bent to hug him, kissing his cheek, and then straightened back up. "I mean, with the exception of Juno."

Desmond nodded, remembering those promising words. "She lied. Which, I shouldn't be so surprised about, but still." Alternately looking between Rebecca and Shaun, he grimaced. "She said it wouldn't hurt, but I've never felt anything like that before. The second I put my hand on the pedestal, it was like it was burning me away from the inside." He glanced down at his damaged arm. "And according to Shaun, that's exactly what happened. We already knew she was dangerous." Looking up again, he said, "But since she lied to me, we can be assured she's willing to do or say whatever it takes to serve her own interests. I mean, I was getting weird vibes from her already. Those emails she sent me were like pure hate, and the visions she kept showing me were so accusing. I don't know why I was surprised when she gave me the ultimatum." Desmond stared glumly down at his hand. "I shouldn't have been."

There was movement in the corner of his eye as Rebecca shifted towards him. "Desmond…"

But he looked back up, resolute. "No, I'm okay." Taking a deep breath, he gave her a small smile. "We can talk about all this later. I want to get out of this room. I'd like to hear what's been going on while I was sleeping. But first I need to shower, and I need to eat."

Rebecca spoke first. "Do you need help with your shower?" Her tone was concerned, a frown on her lips. "The last thing we need is for you to get hurt from a fall or something. Shaun can help you."

Desmond briefly met his eyes, but had to look away. Nudity in the heat of the moment was one thing, but having Shaun see him naked, with the delicate state their…relationship-whatever was in, he didn't quite think it would be a good idea.

Shaun's faint blush and the seemingly casual way he was looking anywhere but at Desmond told him the other shared his feelings on the matter.

"Uh, no, that's fine, I'll just get my dad to help me. Could you go get him? I haven't talked to him since I technically said goodbye."

Rebecca gave him a farewell hug and quickly left with the promise to get his father, but Shaun lingered, still not meeting Desmond's eyes.

It was an awkward silence, Desmond not quite knowing how they should act around each other after that almost would-have-been-amazing-if-uninterrupted kiss.

Apparently 'like awkward teenagers' is how they would act.

Desmond picked at the blanket draped over his legs and waist. Shaun could be heard shuffling by the door. Then, when William Miles' voice was audible and growing louder from outside the room, Shaun pushed off from the wall, cleared his throat and, still blushing faintly, said in voice trying to be nonchalant. "I'll see you later" Then he left, and Desmond had only a few seconds with his thoughts before his dad came in.

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After a short, but meaningful, talk with his father, and a wonderful 34-second phone call to his mother, Desmond had let his dad wrap his bandages in plastic, walk him into the attached bathroom, and had then taken the longest shower of his life with the water cranked as hot as he could stand it.

It had been awkward, washing with his own father standing just a few feet away and keeping guard, but Desmond had felt dizzy and shaky the entire time, so he'd made no complaints. And once he'd turned the water off, he'd been so loose-limbed and weak that he hadn't even been able to leave the shower stall of his own volition. Practically carrying him back to the bedroom, his father had then helped him get in clean clothes.

Desmond had felt like a kid again, sick and helpless while his dad took care of him. But he was fine with the special treatment after their cautious and chaotic time at the temple.

Now, after being dressed in a soft long-sleeve shirt, a pair of baggy sweat pants, and thick socks with rubber grips on the bottom, his dad strapped his arm in a tight sling that hung from his neck but also looped around his back and under his free arm.

"Naomi's given orders to leave that on at all times. Even when you're sleeping."

Desmond nodded, the painkillers, the shower, and the clean clothes all making him feel human for the first time in months. Now all he could focus on was the empty feeling in his stomach. Not that he remembered it, but he hadn't eaten in almost three days. And his last meal had been a rushed couple of protein bars and some too-ripe apples in his haste to get back in the Animus and find the key. His entire abdomen felt hollow and sunken. He laid his free hand over his stomach, watching his father collect his dirty clothes and stuff them into a small cloth bag. "I've got to eat something, dad. Where can I get food?"

"I'll take you to the kitchen and get you something, but I won't be able to stay with you." William's face was an apologetic grimace as he slung the bag over his shoulder and came back to Desmond and wrapped a supporting arm around his back. "I have to get back to passer."

"Who's Passer?" Together they left the room, Desmond clinging to his father's shoulders because he was still shaky and weak.

"Not who, Desmond, _what_."

The hallway was brightly lit with frosted wall sconces and long, with many doors identical to his. They all had numbers on them. A glance back showed Desmond his room was number 12. "Well, _what_ then?" He asked distractedly, head twisting back to study his father's profile.

"P.A.S.R. It stands for 'Planning and Strategy Room. We call it 'passer' for short. It's the control room of this whole place, where we contact and monitor the teams. We're in the dormitories, and this," The hallway ended in a large warm-toned room with lots of armchairs, coffee tables, and high desk tables on wheels. "Is the lounge. Over there is where you can sit and eat."

A wide table surrounded by about 20 chairs was angled in a corner, near an archway door through which a massive fridge and grey countertops were just visible. Desmond could hear soft voices from inside.

William helped Desmond to the table, pulled out a chair for him, then crossed over to the archway. "Let me see if anyone is-Oh. Could you get something for Desmond to eat? I'm needed back at passer."

Desmond's stomach twisted suddenly. He both wanted and feared that the person in the kitchen was Shaun. But Rebecca was the one who came into sight, still smiling, a short, messily-dressed man at her side.

"I knew your stomach would lead you here, Des." Rebecca said with a snort. "And I gotta say, you're looking good. Definitely smelling better, to be sure."

Desmond scoffed, grinning back. "Hey!" He said in mock-offense. "You're one to talk."

Rebecca belly-laughed, giving him a fond wink. Then she seemed to remember William had asked her something and turned back to him. "I'll take care of him, Will. I'm heating him up some stew already and I'll keep an eye on him until he's eaten it _all_." She spared a semi-threatening look to Desmond.

William nodded once, looked down to his wristwatch, then returned to Desmond and leaned down to kiss him on top of his head.

Desmond blushed, _almost_ managing to keep from ducking away. "Dad, jeez."

But William made no acknowledgement of his embarrassment. "Eat what she gives you, Desmond, then, when you feel strong enough, meet me in passer. I'll show you around and introduce you to my base team."

Then he was gone, quick strides taking him off through some other archway down another hallway.

Desmond scowled and rubbed at his head. Rebecca was going to say something. He just knew it.

But when he risked a look up, she had an sympathetic expression on her face.

"I think he's finally realized that being a father is more important than being a boss." Was all she said, sighing slowly and shaking her head.

Which made Desmond squirm uncomfortably. He loved his dad and all, but really wasn't into him suddenly attempting to make up for all the lost time between them.

"Oh!" Rebecca said with a slap to her forehead, jerking Desmond from his thoughts. "I'm an idiot! Sorry," She said to the man at her side, smiling in apology. "Father-son bonding moments and all that, you know."

The man smirked, nodding at her. They both turned back to Desmond.

"This is Izanagi, an Assassin and almost as good as me with electronics."

Extending a hand and chuckling, Izanagi greeted him in slightly accented English. "It is an honor to meet you, Desmond."

Desmond shook his hand and smiled in what he hoped was a gracious way. "Uh, thanks. It's nice to meet you too."

Letting go, Izanagi stepped back, and moved to whisper something in Rebecca's ear, something that had her smiling and crinkling her nose, then he aimed another smile at Desmond. "I shall leave you to your meal, Desmond. And I will wait for you in the workshop, Becca."

"Sure thing. Bye, Iz."

Then he was gone, and Rebecca was back to the kitchen, returning with a tray of steaming food. She set it in front of Desmond and sat across from him at the table.

"I'm not much of a cook, but I can handle soup and crackers, at least."

Desmond's stomach growled as he inhaled deeply, his mouth watering at the sight and smell of a thick chicken stew and some oyster crackers. "Thanks." He said and meant it, crumbling a handful of crackers into the bowl then picking up his spoon and scooping up a heap of chicken and vegetables.

Good god, it was delicious.

"Now eat slow," She advised, watching him with her chin propped up on one raised hand. "I don't want Shaun scolding me for giving you a burnt tongue."

Even just the other's name had Desmond jumping slightly, his neck feeling hot. Feigning nonchalance as he blew on the steaming stew, he asked, "Where is Shaun, by the way?"

There was a snort, and Rebecca shook her head. "I'm not sure. Haven't seen him since I shooed him away from your door. He was lurking outside while you were with your dad and showering, being useless. He's probably in his new office by now. I honestly don't know how he kept away for so long."

Desmond swallowed a mouthful of chicken and peas, and went for another, brows coming together in confusion. Shaun had a new office and hadn't holed himself up in it immediately? "What do you mean?"

"Well, he hasn't really left your room since we got here. When I came in earlier, I was making sure he got out to eat and stretch his legs. Been having to do that a couple times a day. He wouldn't leave if I didn't make him. Man, he's even been sleeping in your room."

Desmond's mind raced, his spoon suspended mid-scoop, the information like a slap upside the head. Shaun hadn't left his side the whole time? For three days, he'd been watching over him? He recalled Shaun's outbursts earlier and his anger at Naomi. And when Desmond had confessed, Shaun hadn't rebuked him. Hadn't told him no. Had kissed him. Had been willing to do more, maybe.

"Des? You alright."

Blinking quickly and forcing a smile, Desmond nodded. "Yeah, sorry, just…thinking." He rushed more stew into his mouth, wanting the excuse not to talk.

Nothing was said for a few minutes, then Rebecca was tilting her head at him, and Desmond could practically feel the speculation in her gaze. "You know," She began, her tone setting off warning bells in Desmond's brain. "If I didn't know any better, I would think Shaun might have a…I don't know, a sorta _thing_ for you."

Nothing he could do kept the rapid rise of heat from flooding his cheeks, and Desmond ducked his head and shoveled more stew into his mouth, not trusting himself to say anything.

"Whoa. Wait, did you… _Do_ you..." Rebecca sat back in her chair, her mouth dropping open. "Wait, no way! I was only joking! And I didn't think that _you_-"

This is not how he wanted anyone to find out. Because there wasn't anything _to_ find out. There really wasn't. Shaun might not actually have feelings for him. It only seemed like he did. And even if Shaun did feel the same way Desmond did, he had still pushed him away that night. Still ignored him, and still left him to sacrifice himself to Juno.

Okay, that wasn't fair. Desmond had forced them all to go.

And Shaun had come back for him.

"Desmond. Hey, Earth to Desmond."

Fingers waved in front of his face, and he jerked up to see Rebecca, forehead crinkled with worry. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out. It's cool. I'm just… I didn't know…"

"That I'm attracted to guys?" Desmond muttered, looking away.

"What? No, who cares?" He heard her scoff and looked up to see her shaking her head. "To each their own, dude. I'm not one to put people into groups or care anyway. I'm just surprised that Shaun is capable of human emotion."

Laughter bubbled up unbidden at that, and he dropped his spoon to cover his mouth, snorting into his palm. Gasping, he managed a breathless, "Me too."

That sent Rebecca into a fit of giggles too, and they laughed together, eventually settling quietly to smirk at each other. Thank god. She just made this a whole lot easier.

"So," Rebecca , tapping her fingers across the table as he resumed eating. "How long have you two…"

Desmond swallowed his mouthful and stammered, "We haven't, I mean, we-we aren't. Well, not yet. I mean, uhh," He let out a frustrated breath, frowning down at his bowl. "I don't know what I mean."

Quizzical eyes roamed over his face. "Then you're not actually dating? But you like him, right?"

Desmond let out a soft, "Yeah."

"And he likes you. Or at least, it looks like that from where I'm standing. I've never seen Shaun care so much about anyone other than himself, and I'm probably his closest friend. No, wait, I know I'm his closest friend." Rebecca was biting her lip, concentration clear in her expression. "Now, you've been asleep this whole time, so you didn't know he stayed with you. Something happened in the temple, didn't it?"

Desmond marveled at her, wide-eyed at her shrewdness. "…Yeah. About a week before the solar flare."

Rebecca's hands shot up. "I don't need to know the details. I just didn't notice anything was going on. Except… Hmm."

"What?"

"I thought it was just because we were running out of time, but I did think you two were acting a little off. Like you didn't want to talk to each other or something. But none of us were really up for conversation by that point, so I didn't really think anything of it."

Desmond had no desire to explain why they'd been awkward around each other, and he chose instead to finish the last bits of his meal, then drinking deeply from the glass full of clear water most definitely not from a stream. His stomach felt close to bursting and he sat back to exhale in satisfaction.

"Are you still hungry?" Rebecca asked.

"No," Desmond murmured, rubbing his stomach. "I'm stuffed. That was probably the greatest thing I've ever eaten."

"Just you wait." She said, wiggling excitedly in her seat. "When you've got your normal appetite back and Naomi gives the all clear, you can eat with the rest of us. Though, she can definitely whip you up something fancier than canned soup. Marguerite's an amazing chef, and she cooks for everyone. Oh man, you've never had _anything_ like it."

So Marguerite was the head chef Naomi had been talking about. "Sounds great." He said, smiling. But what else was there to know about HQ? He turned his head to examine the room more closely, seeing the large windows framing each wall. The glass was frosted, but there was a warm glow from beyond.

Wait, how could there be windows on all four walls? "What's up with the windows?"

Rebecca matched the direction of his stare. "Oh, those? Those aren't windows. We're underground."

Desmond's head whipped around so fast, his neck cricked. "_What_?"

With a laugh, Rebecca gestured with her nose back at the windows-that-weren't-windows. "Yeah, crazy, right? Those are modeled to look like windows, and there's these light fixtures behind them set to a timer. It's supposed to replicate natural light based on what time of the day it is. Keeps the people who are down here for extended periods of time from going insane, I guess."

"But, _underground_?" That was outrageous. The place looked like a hotel.

"Yeah, like, pretty deep. Too deep for any cell detection, at least. I'm not sure exactly where we are, because William made us wear blindfolds and drove us the rest of the way here. But I'm pretty sure we're somewhere in New York state. Could be anywhere within the state, though. All I know is we were leaving the temple, headed north, then before anything became recognizable, he was making us sit in the back with you, taking the wheel and then, when we were allowed to see again, we were in this huge parking garage, then inside this place."

"Are we safe here, though? How do we know the Templars don't know about this place?"

"Well, they're not here, which is a good sign. And if they do somehow find us, there are over a hundred tunnels to escape through. Apparently they all come out to random places. Reminds me of how Ezio and Connor would go traveling through sewers. Luckily, no sewers here." She gave a short laugh. "Damn, I just realized. We went from one cave to another."

Desmond's smile was brief. "Yeah. Though this is certainly an upgrade."

"You're telling me. This place isn't that big, there's only the dormitory wing, passer, the lounge and the kitchen, and a small gym, but yeah, a _definite_ upgrade. Hot water, warm beds, plenty of food." Her voice took on a wistful note. "And old friends."

She _sounded_ like he _felt_ when thinking about Shaun. "Izanagi?"

Something soft came into her eyes, and her lips quirked. "Yeah." Still wistful. "We used to date, sorta."

"Sorta?"

"We're the two best electrical engineers with the Assassins, so, we have a lot in common. We get along, but… It's never been serious. And we both know that. We don't get to spend a lot of time together."

Desmond searched her face, but could only see acceptance. What if that was all that happened with him and Shaun? Something casual.

He wasn't ready to consider that possibility yet.

"Okay, we've gossiped enough." Rebecca said suddenly, moving to stand and reaching for Desmond's tray. "William's going to tear me a new one if I keep you too long. He really wants you to talk with the lead team and fill them in on what happened in the temple."

Desmond moved to stand as well. "But you were all there too. You know what happened."

"True, but we were only along for the ride. All that was meant for you, and you're the best one to retell it firsthand." Tray in hand, she brought everything back to the kitchen.

There was the sound of dishes knocking against what Desmond assumed was the metal of a sink. Then Rebecca was coming back out and lending him an arm. After his meal, he finally felt stronger, and he only needed to grasp her forearm, letting her lead him to the same hallway his father had gone.

"You've met Naomi and Iz, but there's about… Uh, 17, I think, other Assassins. Most of them should be in passer with your dad, but I think Dale and Christian are in their rooms sleeping because they did night patrol. You might feel a bit overwhelmed at first. We haven't been around this many people at the same time without the threat of being murdered around every corner. I almost had a panic attack the first day." She joked as they drew nearer to a set of high double-doors. "Brace yourself. Everyone is going to want to meet you."

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Hours later, exhausted and achy, his muscles protesting all the activity after being unused for so long, Desmond managed to excuse himself from all the people clamoring to talk to him and make his way – on his own, thank god – back to his room. Embarrassed that it was only slightly after six o'clock, and he'd only been up for less than five hours, he hobbled down the dormitory hall, hand braced on the wall to steady himself. Once actually in the room he'd woken up in, Desmond realized that he wouldn't be able to get his sling off to change his shirt by himself. Which wasn't actually an issue after weeks of sleeping in the same clothes he'd worn every day. At least this outfit was comfortable. Certainly more comfortable than dirty jeans and sweat-stained shirts.

The bed was soft as he climbed in, settling under the covers and lying back. The moment his head touched the pillows, he was falling fast asleep.

An unknown, but significant, amount of time later, his door was being opened, the sound jolting him awake, his heart thudding in alarm.

"Relax, Desmond. It's only me." Came Shaun's hushed voice in the dark.

Desmond exhaled loudly, once more calmed by the other's presence. "Whas wronn?" He slurred, still half asleep.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep."

Shaun clicked on the small lamp from before, then moved over to the far wall facing the foot of the bed. Desmond watched through slit eyes, the other's blurred shape doing something by a familiar-looking rectangle hanging on the wall. One of those windows that Rebecca had told him about. But it was dark. That was why he hadn't noticed it before. Even when he'd woken up before, it had been dark.

Something Shaun did made a faint clicking sound.

"Mmh?" He hummed questioningly, his tired mouth not wanting to make proper words.

"I said go back to sleep, Desmond. You need your rest."

But Desmond continued to watch as Shaun went into the bathroom for a moment, then came out again, walking quietly around the bed towards the door. Desmond didn't want him to leave. Their conversation when he'd woken up had been so wonderful after the days of silence back at the temple, and he wanted more. He whined deep in his throat, wanting to reach for Shaun, but unable to lift his sleep-heavy arm.

"Shut it, Desmond." Shaun said sharply before sitting in that armchair again and crossing his legs. "If I have to tell you one more time to go to sleep, I'm going to smother you with your pillow."

Something like a laugh vibrated out past Desmond's lips at the welcome sound of Shaun's snark. He defied the other's orders and turned his head on the pillow to watch him more closely. Shaun's arms were crossed, and Desmond was sure he was being glared at for disobeying. The thought had him grinning.

"What could you possibly be smiling about? Do you _want_ to be smothered?"

Rousing enough to open his eyes further, Desmond chose not to answer the first question. "Wha cha doing?" He asked haltingly, swallowing the sleep from his mouth.

"Sitting here in this armchair. What does it ruddy well look like?"

"Why?"

Shaun made a frustrated sound. "You are such a child. Go. To. Sleep."

This was too amusing. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Desmond!" Shaun whispered sharply. "_Fine_. Be a brat. I'm not sleeping because I'm not injured or ill and I don't need sleep as much as you do. And I'm here because I want to make sure you don't hurt yourself like a bleedin' idiot by rolling off the bed or turning onto your bad arm. There. Happy? Now go to sleep."

Shaun was here to watch over him, to make sure he was safe. Desmond felt warm all over. Though that might have been the combination of blankets and the beckoning pull of unconsciousness that lapped at the edge of his awareness. "All night?"

"What?"

Desmond had to fight to stay awake now. "You'll be here…all night?"

"Yup. Should be thrilling watching you kick in your sleep like an infant."

With the last dregs of strength he had, Desmond pulled the blankets down beside him. "Here." He said, thumping his hand on the sheet. "Sleep too."

Then he was floating, in and out of consciousness and slowly falling deeper, everything quiet and dark.

TO BE CONTINUED

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**AN:** **Lots of slow build-up for these two. I hope you don't mind! But don't worry. There will be lots of boinking. You won't even know what to do with yourself.**

**If you have a moment, please leave a review. Letting me know what you like (even if you only liked one thing in the whole chapter) or didn't like (even if you didn't like the entire thing), lets me know if the story is making people happy. Thank you in advance, even if you read-and-run. 3**


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